


A King's Fortune

by AmbidextrousArcher



Category: Mahabharata - Vyasa
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Arjun is the eldest, F/M, Gen, Madri lives, Since he retains his canon characteristics, Some Yudhisthir Bashing may be there
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-04
Updated: 2020-08-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:22:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25716493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmbidextrousArcher/pseuds/AmbidextrousArcher
Summary: Pritha takes a deep breath.  “Honor alone does not make a King. He will be our firstborn son, born to rule. He must not be a King only in name, an empty honor. He should be a King in truth. Valor, justice and a sense of duty and responsibility is paramount, my husband, in a King.”What if the firstborn son was the warrior of Dharma, not the teacher of Dharma?
Relationships: Kunti & The Pandavas, Kunti/Pandu (Mahabharata), Madri & the Pandavas, Madri/Pandu (Mahabharata), Other Relationship Tags to Be Added
Comments: 12
Kudos: 22
Collections: Hindu Mythology Event





	A King's Fortune

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Dwij008](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dwij008/gifts), [Medhasree](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Medhasree/gifts).



> This is intended to be a fix-it, guys, for all that it might seem like angst-central right now. Have patience, it will get better. I promise. 
> 
> The Pandavas' approximate ages at the end of this chapter: Arjun- 14, Bheem- 12, Yudhisthir- 10, Nakul & Sahadev- 9.  
> (I HC that, in canon, Arjun is about six-seven years younger than Yudhisthir, what with the gap between children and the tapasya undertaken specifically for Arjun's birth. Here, too, it's Arjun's birth alone that needs a tapasya, the others don't, so the age differences are smaller than !my! canon.)
> 
> After deliberation with my trusted beta readers, as well as a comment by Athul (shoutout to you, Athul!), I came to the conclusion that some things need to be clarified regarding this fic:  
> First of all, this is intended to be a fix-it the best way I can think of.  
>  Hence, I am trying to take any and all ways of a 'happy ending' for most characters (for eg. Madri does not die.) This is not intended to slander any character. It plays, instead, to my own interpretation of the characters (for eg. I see Arjun as emotionally perceptive as opposed to say, Yudhisthir, something others may not agree with)  
>  Another thing to note is that the narration is done through a character's eyes. (In this case, Arjun) with the attendant differences in narration as opposed to an unbiased narrator.  
>  So a character who might seem complex to us, might not seem the same to Arjun, who might see him as an enemy. As a nuisance. This story is told through his eyes for a reason.  
> The story, as of now, seems to do disservice to Yudhisthir, as he is a child now. He will mature. Whether or not you like the result is something I cannot predict, but I will try to do his character justice.  
> I would like to end by saying that my interpretation of honour and the reader's may differ, so please try to be patient with what I write.

“Pritha…” her husband calls. “We had agreed that…” For all that he had agreed, he hesitates to say the words, to bring them into existence. Pritha nods. Memories flash in her mind, memories she represses savagely, of fear, and pain, and a bright, blinding God.

“We had agreed, yes. To ask for the boon of a son from Gods. To ask for Niyoga.” He flinches, but Pritha holds his gaze. After a moment, he says, “I would will it that you call the Lord of Dharma first.” “Why dharma, Pandu?” _Pritha finds it an odd choice. Dharma alone does not suffice. Besides, she knows better than most the conflicts of Dharma. What should she have chosen then? The Dharma of a daughter, which she did, or the Dharma of a maiden?_

Pritha takes a deep breath. “Honor alone does not make a King. He will be our firstborn son, born to rule. He must not be a King only in name, an empty honor. He should be a King in truth. Valor, justice and a sense of duty and responsibility is paramount, my husband, in a King.” Pandu looks at her, brow furrowed in thought. “What do you propose, priye?”

Blasphemous as it might seem, Pritha has no answer at first. _The Gods can be fickle, after all._

Mulling over it, hesitantly, she says “Devraj Indra.” “Devraj Indra?” Pritha nods, her conviction gathering strength. “He is the strength and the King of the celestials, the warrior beyond peer. I shall call upon him first.” Pandu looks at her, mouth opening slightly, as if to object. Finding nothing to say, he merely nods. “As you wish.”

Duly, Pritha, heart in her throat, uses the mantra to call on Lord Indra. He is, it seems to her, oddly gentle when they do what they have to. She is not shaking, not in pain. She had assumed that it…happened when men took their pleasure alone. She discovers that is not the case.

Months later, in a bed of blood and pain, she holds a baby in her hand, the boy apparently strong and handsome, yet seems delicate and vulnerable to her. He has her fine features, her dark skin. He burrows into her, seeking her warmth, her comfort. This time, he is truly her child. She has no obligation to a higher power to let him go. She will not.

Later, she hears of a rain of stars, heralding the son of Indra. She remembers the prophecy, the predictions of his bravery, his valor, his honor, his ability to delight her heart. Her husband is ecstatic, as is Pritha herself.

In spite of the joy, foreboding rises in her still as they name the child, her cherished child. _Arjun._ Once, this name was a thing of pride, the name of a King, until Kartavirya Arjun angered the Gods, incurring a curse on the name, that no King can ever bear that na.me. Pandu still wants to name him that, his innate belief and hopes for the child so high that he is certain that their son would triumph over any curse.

Pritha, too, can believe the same, she decides. Not for this child the lot of bemoaning fate and curses for the course his life might take. This boy will be a fighter. She will make it so. So Arjun he is. Her Arjun, their Arjun, who will truly be bright.

Arjun looks at mata worriedly. She is sick very often these days. “Mata?” he asks. “Are you alright? Does the bump make you sick?” Arjun has noticed that mata started getting sick after the bump came.

Mata looks at him. She seems surprised for a moment, but then laughs. She ruffles Arjun’s hair. “No, little hurricane,” she says, “this little bump you see? That’s your little brother.” “Like Bheem, mata?” “Yes, like him. Just like you and Bheem are so different, this child will be different, too. Will you take care of him?” Mata has a twinkle in her eyes. Arjun nods sincerely. “I will!” Being a big brother is a big responsibility, Arjun thinks. Bheem and he are very close in age, so he isn’t really ‘big’. But this baby will be really little. Arjun vows that he’ll take care of him.

“Seems like you’ve gotten yourself quite the protector, Pritha,” Pitashree says. Mata looks at Arjun by her side. “That I have,” she says, smiling at him.

Arjun laughs, parrying the sword. “Good,” Pitashree pats him on the back. At first, swordfighting had seemed so very unwieldy and different from the smooth drawing nocking and loosing of archery, but Arjun is slowly getting used to it. Bheem doesn’t understand why Arjun favors the bow so much, himself preferring the heavy mace. Arjun gets some practice in mace-fighting too. Bheem needs to learn how to control his temper, Arjun thinks, after a particularly brutal bout. “Bheem. Be a little careful, little brother. This is just practice. For now.” “No! It is a battle.” “Is it, now?” Arjun feints, something Bheem doesn’t expect, so focused on his practice drills. Bheem trips and falls, and ends up with Arjun’s mace resting lightly on his head. “Now, this,” Arjun says lightly, “is how a battle goes. Not just practice drills. Do you understand the difference?” Bheem nods. “Good, see that you remember.” “Aagya, Jyeshth Bhraata,” Bheem says, a laugh in his voice.

When Yudhisthir is born, Arjun gets to hold a baby for the first time in his life. Arjun holds him gently, carefully, a little scared that he might hurt his little brother. Mata was in a lot of pain when he was born, but Mata Madri says that when babies are born, it’s always painful. That seems wrong to Arjun, somehow. “Why do babies make you sick and painful, Mata Madri?” To that question, as to so many others, no one had any answers.

Perhaps, Arjun could find the answers out on his own. “Yudhisthir,” he says quietly in his brother’s ear, holding him close. “I’ll definitely protect you.”

Soon after, Nakul and Sahadev were also born. All his brothers are different. Bheem so boisterous, Yudhisthir so quiet, and the babies too young for him to know. Arjun sometimes feels he is the middle of very conflicting people. Arjun finds he likes that fine. He is the eldest, he can listen to them, mediate between them. Isn’t that what older brothers are for?

Arjun, done with archery practice for the day, bow slung across his back, is on his way home. Today is the pooja of Uttaryaan, his parents would be busy, for it is already evening, suryasth almost on them. He hastens on his way, picking up speed.

“Bhraata Arjun!” _Uh-oh._ Yudhisthir sounds nearly in tears. Arjun catches the younger boy by the waist. He cannot make sense of what his little brother manages to say between hiccups. “Yudhisthir. Can we talk about this after you’re calm? Shh. I am here, we’ll take care of it. Okay?” “Bhraata Bheem scary!” the little boy manages to get out. “Bheem?” Arjun straightens, taking the younger child by the hand. “Come, we shall see how scary he can be.”

“Lost no time running behind Bhraata Arjun, didn’t you, runt? That’s all you can do. Run behind Bhraata Arjun and read those useless palm-leaf manuscripts.” Arjun looks his younger brother in the eye. “What is this?” “You know as well as I. He isn’t a warrior, he’ll never be one, always with his nose deep in books.”

“Bheem. When warring, what do we follow?” Bheem looks at him, “Dharmashastras, of course, we need to follow Yuddh-Neeti.” Arjun nods. “You see? Palm-leaf manuscripts. We read and learn Dharma, so that we can follow it.” “Bhraata Arjun, reading and learning is different from following Dharma!” “Each of us has a Dharma of our own, Bheem. Don’t we? We need to find out for ourselves what that is. You have the Dharma of a brother. An elder brother, too. Is this part of your Dharma?”

Bheem looks sullen but shakes his head. “No, Bhraata Arjun.” “That’s right.” Arjun looks pointedly at Bheem. “I am sorry, Anuj Bhraata.” “Yes, that’s it. Okay, now, Yudhisthir? Tomorrow, I’ll take you to Pitashree. We’ll learn shaastras together, would you like it?” “Truly, Bhraata Arjun?” “Truly. Now, come. We should wake the twins. Come along, quick!” “Bhraata Arjun…” “Hmm?” “Pitashree, he doesn’t like talking to me much…” Brow crinkled in a frown, Arjun looks at his brother. “He does, Yudhisthir, of course he does! It’s Pitashree. You are his son as much as I, you’ll see, alright?”

True to his word, Arjun takes Yudhisthir with him when he meets Pitashree in what is a daily ritual for them. Arjun keeps an eye on Yudhisthir, who is hesitant to speak at first. Arjun and Pitashree are deep into the discussion of common dharmic dilemmas, when Arjun’s prompting finally propels Yudhisthir into answering.

However, most of Yudhisthir’s answers stick to the traditional interpretation of Dharma. Arjun supposes that, for a child as young as he is, it makes sense, but Pitashree is not pleased.

Arjun can understand why, if he is being honest. He has heard the story of his birth too many times to count, how mata and Pitashree decided that if he is to uphold Dharma, dharmic abilities alone would not suffice. His parents understand that Dharma itself has many inherent conflicts and other qualities are necessary to resolve them, something Arjun agrees with.

But Yudhisthir is a child. Pitashree does not seem to be taking that into consideration.

Arjun decides that the best he can do is to intercede. “Yudhisthir. Something you need to understand, little brother, is that the dictums of Dharma can conflict.” “Why, Bhraata Arjun?” _Alright_ , thinks Arjun. _He can explain._ Pitashree cuts him short. “That is something given in the works that constitute Dharma, Arjun, it does not need explanation.” _Pitashree!_ Arjun thinks desperately. _He is a child, let him ask._

A part of Arjun is completely confused, for Pitashree never reacted like this to any of Arjun’s questions. He does not know what to say for a moment, as Yudhisthir looks down, crestfallen. He soldiers on nonetheless. “Yudhisthir,” he says gently, “Ask what you want.” He looks hesitantly at Arjun, who nods encouragingly. “Pitashree, Bhraata Arjun, how does Dharma conflict?” Arjun smiles at his brother. “That’s an excellent question!” he exclaims, looking at Pitashree, who, thankfully, nods along.

“Listen carefully, Yudhisthir, alright? Assume I am an adult, yes? I am someone’s son, someone’s brother, perhaps someone’s husband or father. I am also a person on my own, with my swa-dharma. If I am King, I have the responsibility of many people on my shoulders. If a family member of mine hurts people in my Kingdom, what do I do? What is my Dharma?”

Pitashree nods approvingly at Arjun. “Yes, this is how you should think,” he says.

Yudhisthir does not think twice before answering. “Dharma as King takes precedence.” “Good.” This is Pitashree. Arjun steps back, allowing the conversation to continue.

“But,” continues Pitashree, “If the King himself hurts his family, what should be done?” Yudhisthir does not take even a moment to think. “The King is supreme,” he replies confidently.

Arjun, taken aback, looks at his brother, barely suppressing a flinch. Before Pitashree responds, he steps in again. “Why do you think that?” he asks.

"The King is the authority, Bhraata Arjun, is he not?" "The King, too, is human, Yudhisthir. Of the five of us, when we will be adults, I will be the authority as the eldest. Does that mean I cannot make a mistake?"

Yudhisthir does not answer. "Yudhisthir." Arjun and Yudhisthir turn to Pitashree in unison. "Learn from your brother. Your understanding of the letter of Dharma is excellent, you are the age to learn the spirit of the law, yes?"

Yudhisthir looks confused. “Why are the two different, Pitashree?”

Pitashree sighs. "Arjun explained, did he not? Try to understand, child."

"Your brother was much easier to teach. Have an open mind, that is all I can say. I should have expected that you would be different." "Pitashree..." Arjun interjects. "I appreciate that you are trying to educate your brother, Arjun, I will also make efforts to do the same. He is only...well, not you, I suppose." Arjun looks down.

“All of us are different, Pitashree,” he says, trying to mollify him. “Yudhisthir understands the letter of the law far better than I do.” “Yes, I can see that.” He ruffles Yudhisthir’s hair. “We shall learn more, would you like that?” Yudhisthir nods earnestly.

“Accompany Arjun on his lessons, Yudhisthir, you can learn a lot from him. I shall also do my best to teach you.” Arjun smiles at his little brother. “Arjun, meet me here after having your food. We shall practice more of the stances of the spear.” “Aagya, Pitashree.” “Ah, I just remembered. Your mata and I have something to do, Arjun. You are free for the day.” The transparent attempt at veiling the upcoming surprise for the next day, his 14th birthday, amuses Arjun, but he only nods. “Aagya, Pitashree.” 

Arjun watches the sun rise, knowing that this is the last moment of solitude he can hope for the day. There is a lot to do. Brahmanas in the ashrama nearby should be felicitated, he knows that mata Kunti and mata Madri would have decorated their home in the night, just as he knows that his brothers will not leave him for even a moment. Arjun smiles. He can hear the twins, he thinks, try to sneak in. He pretends he cannot.

“Shubham Janamdinam, Bhraata Arjun!” Arjun laughs, hugging his youngest brothers. “Dhanyavadam, Nakul, Sahadev.” “Bhraata Arjun! Come with us, please! Or Mata Kunti won’t give us the Prasad. She gives you everything.” “Not everything, Nakul, you know that.” “Bhraata Arjun! No one will refuse you today.” Arjun winks. “I can still refuse you.” “Bhraata Arjun! No!” “It’s for the pooja, Nakul, it is special, isn’t it? I’ll give you my share later if you want.” “No, Bhraata Arjun, it’s your day today.” “That it is.”

Arjun makes another circle among the assembled rishis, all absorbed in debate. Pitahree is indulging them. Arjun serves them what they wish, along with Bheem and Mata Kunti. Mata Madri is at Pitashree’s side. When the rishis leave, one by one, they go to bath for the pooja. By the time Arjun comes back, Mata Kunti has set the vahigandh in place, the younger children fidgeting in their places. “Mata!” calls Arjun. “Pitashree said that he and Mata Madri have something to do.” “What was Madri doing, Arjun?” “I think she was bathing.” “Start the pooja, then, putr.” “Should we not wait?” Mata Kunti nods.

So they wait, and wait, and wait some more. But neither Pitashree, nor Mata Madri come back. “Mata, shouldn’t we check on them?” “Yes, we should, Arjun. Bheem, stay with the children.”

They go deep into the forest, near the clearing Mata Madri prefers to bathe in. Arjun is the first to catch sight of Mata Madri. She doesn’t look good. Her clothes are ruffled, a bruise blossoming on her arm. _Where is Pitashree? Should he not have protected Mata Madri?_

Arjun edges carefully closer to her, touching her lightly. To his shock, she flinches away, her eyes wide and wild. “Mata Madri? It’s just Arjun. Are you…” Arjun trails off when his eyes catch sight of Pitashree, lying spread-eagled on the ground. “Mata Madri! What happened to Pitashree?” Mata Kunti takes in the scene, pushing Arjun behind her. “Mata Kunti? What…” Before Arjun finishes the sentence, he knows, somewhere deep inside, what has happened.

It is plain to see, but Arjun does not want to see what it is, does not want to understand, for a desperate moment. He rushes to his father’s side, shakes him, checks for the faintest of breaths. Nothing. Even his clothes are disheveled in ways Arjun does not want to think of.

And Arjun understands. For all that a part of him might rebel against what it is, it is the bitter truth, and he has to face it.

More important than that, however, are his mothers. Mata Kunti stands in silent stupefaction for a moment, before she moves towards Mata Madri. The two women hug, Mata Kunti whispering to her younger sister. Arjun steps back, awkward, feeling like an intruder. He fights against the thought surfacing in his head, suppressing it deep, as deep as he can.

That leaves the grief. Crushing, overwhelming grief. Arjun does not know who he mourns, his father, or the man he had thought him to be, or the both of them, but the grief is almost all-consuming. Until he hears Mata Kunti's voice, summoning him to reality.

“Madri!” Mata Kunti’s voice is shaky, laced with tears. Arjun blinks away his own, hastening to their side. “Madri.” Mata Kunti’s voice wavers. “For the children, sister. Get up.” Arjun kneels, helping her up. He is confused, he does not know what to do. Mata Madri holds tightly to him.

Arjun takes a deep breath. “Maate…” he says, addressing the both of them together, quiet, struggling to keep his voice even. “I am here.” It does not make sense, but he can hardly think of anything else to say.

It seems to be enough, Arjun thinks, as he holds the both of them, for what seems to be a long amount of time.

It is Mata Kunti who loosens the hold first. “The children…” Arjun nods. There’s a sinking feeling in his mind as he realizes that he is not one of the children anymore. From this moment, he is the eldest, the man.

By the time they reach their home, the twins are asleep, Yudhisthir nodding off. Bheem alone is awake. He runs to Arjun. “Bhraata Arjun! How was the surprise? Did you like it? I helped Pitashree with it! Did you like it?”

For a moment, Arjun does not understand. “Surprise? What for?” He is reeling, unable to make sense of this excitement, this happiness, unable to put words to what he will have to explain. “Pitashree did not show you yet? Bhraata Arjun, it’s your birthday surprise!” _Oh. It’s still his birthday,_ Arjun realizes.

Bheem looks confused. “Bhraata Arjun, mata, where is Pitashree?” “Bheem…” Arjun, Mata Kunti and Mata Madri say his name together. “Yes?” Bheem looks tense. Mata Kunti keeps a hand on Arjun’s shoulder. Arjun looks gratefully at her. “He…he’s gone, Bheem. He won’t come back.” “Why not?” Arjun swallows painfully. He knows no way to soften the blow. “He’s…dead, Bheem.” “No!” exclaims Bheem. “Pitashree can’t die! He’s somewhere here, he has to be!” He tries to go out, Arjun catches him and holds him. He fights, kicks out, but Arjun keeps him held. Mata Kunti nods at him, leading Mata Madri somewhere. Arjun has flashes of a memory he does not want to remember and flinches. He tightens his hold on Bheem. “He isn’t there, Bheem. Why would I lie? I want him, too.” The ruckus that they make wakes the others up. “Bhraata Arjun?” It’s a chorus of voices, of Yudhisthir and the twins.

 _You are the eldest, Arjun. It is your duty to stand in Pitashree’s place. What would Pitashree do in this situation?_ Arjun thinks for a moment. After what he had seen, he is not sure whether he knows their father for who he is…was, but he supposes insufficient knowledge will have to do. _He would tell them the truth._

So Arjun sits with his brothers. He tells them the truth, omitting that dark part no one needs to know about. He answers the questions they ask. “Are you our Pitashree now, Bhraata Arjun?” Arjun shakes his head. “No. I’m just me.” He gives a smile, forcing it on his face. “But yes, you should come to me with what you’d usually go to him with.” _Where will I go? When even Pitashree could do something hurtful to Mata Madri like this, can I trust others?_ “Will you teach us?” “I don’t know. We need to decide where to go, first, then we can think about this, okay?” The younger three yawn. “Go to sleep,” Arjun says quietly. He pats them to sleep, hands moving mechanically, mind numb, empty. Yudhisthir snuggles close to him, the twins having their heads on his lap. _Where are Mata Kunti and Mata Madri?_ Arjun can hardly stand and look for them without disturbing the others. Bheem, too, flops to his other side. “Bhraata Arjun…” he says sleepily. “You should have gotten your birthday surprise.” Arjun holds back a huff. _I did get one, little brother, and what a surprise it was._

Arjun does not like his birthday anymore. He has lost too much in the span of a single day.

"It’s alright, Bheem,” Arjun says, even though he knows it isn’t. “I am fine. You sleep.” “You’ll always be here, won’t you, Bhraata Arjun?” Arjun nods. “Yes. Always.” _If I can’t trust anyone else, I need to learn to trust myself, to mould myself. And being there for my brothers is the least I can do._

Time passes, and neither Mata Kunti nor Mata Madri return. Arjun, worried, carries the twins to the hay beds and sets out. Mata Kunti and Madri are arguing in whispers, he can hear it.

“Madri, please don’t drink it! Think of the twins, Madri, please!” The desperation in Mata Kunti’s voice hastens Arjun. “You know it was my fault.” “He did it to himself, Madri. Both of us know that.” “Mata Kunti is right, Mata Madri. You are not to blame for what happened.” Arjun shies away from thinking about it, but he has to say this.

“You do not know what happened!” she rounds on him. “Yes, mata Madri, I do. Pitashree tried to…to…it wasn’t your fault. He tried to hurt you, whether that was his intent or not.” His next words are rushed. “Please, Mata Madri, don’t…don’t hurt yourself!” Arjun refuses to use the dreaded word, refuses to think it. “Please.” His voice is bridging, breaking. “We…I need you. We can’t lose you, Mata. Please listen to me.” He walks closer to her, taking the container filled with unfamiliar liquid, holding it gingerly, holding it away from her. His eyes fill with tears, tears that he tries resolutely to blink away. “Mata Madri, please. I’ll do anything, please.” Arjun isn’t thinking before he speaks. Errant tears slide down his face. Arjun bows his head, struggling for a semblance of control. Mata Kunti strides close to Mata Madri, taking her by the shoulder.

“Madri, if not for my sake, then for our children’s sake. Look, Madri. Look at him, at Arjun. He’s a child, Madri, he has just lost his father. He is still standing for you, our children are all there for you, don’t you think you should be with them? They need you, Madri. Do not take this rash decision.”

Madri Madri’s gaze is on him. She blinks. “Arjun? Putr, what are you doing here?” “I…I was worried, Mata. The children are all asleep. I couldn’t sleep. I came out, I heard Mata Kunti and I came here. Should I not have?” Mata Madri’s eyes aren’t empty anymore. Arjun is relieved beyond belief and his words rush out. Mata Madri shakes her head, keeping her hand on Arjun’s own. No words are needed. They walk back in silence.

Arjun steps inside their home, and all of a sudden, it is too much to bear. The events of the last few hours flash past in his head, his knees threatening to buckle. _I cannot lose control like this._

“Arjun?” Seizing on the opportunity, Arjun turns to Mata Kunti. “You should sleep, too. Come with me, will you? I think I’d like it if you are with me.” “Mata, what about you? What about Mata Madri?” “Madri?” calls Mata Kunti. “Come with us, sister. I think I’d sleep better if Arjun is at my side.” Mata Madri gives a wan smile. “So will I.” Both of them take one of Arjun’s hands in one of theirs. Arjun gratefully follows along.

“Mata?” he asks later, almost asleep, worry still rearing its head. “Yes, little hurricane?” “Where will we go?” “Go to sleep for now, putr. We will decide tomorrow, alright? Tomorrow is a new day.”

Arjun opens his eyes slowly. _Please let it have been a bad dream. Please. Let Pitashree come and wake me up. Or call me for practice._ Of course, none of that happens, yet Arjun has to face the day.

His mothers are asleep on either side of him, they too stir as he moves. “Arjun, you’re awake.” “I am, Mata.” “Do not do the morning pooja, putr.” Arjun shakes his head. “No, mata.” He hesitates for a moment. “Mata? What do we do for…for Pitashree? The sanskars, the-the…” Arjun’s throat is choked, he cannot finish his sentence. Mata Kunti nods heavily. “Arjun, I want you and Madri to ask the rishis to convene here. We shall decide in their presence.” Arjun catches the unsaid words, _we need witnesses for what is to happen._

“Go,” says Mata Kunti. “I will see to the children.” Mata Madri slips her hand in Arjun’s, and they go.

Arjun finds Rishi Shukra and tells him everything he can, halting, uncertain. He still feels like he is in a nightmare. Rishi Shukra listens in sympathetic silence, nodding seriously. He tells Arjun to sit, to have water, while he sends others to set matters as they should be.

Arjun is not prepared to see what he does when he comes out. The rishis are carrying someone that Arjun knows is Pitashree, and yet isn’t. A part of him is in rebellion. _This can’t be Pitashree, he can’t be this still, this unnatural. No._

Arjun pushes that part of himself down as he strides forward, intentionally keeping ahead of Mata Madri. “The Maharaj’s body…should it not be here, Rajkumar?” “Yes, rishivar,” Arjun swallows, the word sticking in his throat. “It should be here, until we decide the course of our action. Mata Kunti, Mata Madri and I humbly ask for your advice.” “It would be our honor, Rajkumar Arjun. Please lead the way.” Arjun does.

It is a tight knot they form. The rishis, Mata Kunti, Mata Madri, and Arjun at the periphery. The children are darting glances at them. Arjun notes that Bheem is distracting the others to the best of his ability and almost smiles. _Ah, Bheem._

Arjun cannot afford distraction now.

“Madra has its merits, Maharani, but a major factor to be considered is the eldest son’s blood, his heritage. The eldest son of the family must lead, it is tradition.” Every eye is on Arjun. “It is Kururashtra we go to, then, mata? To Hastina?” Mata Kunti nods. “The King of Kuru cannot be laid to rest anywhere else, Arjun. We need to think of that, too.” Arjun nods back at her. “It is decided.”

Arjun smiles as he watches the twins excitedly speak of the wonders they would see in Hastina. “We would meet family, too, Nakul. Would you like that?” “What do you mean?” “Well, we have talked about Jyeshth Pitrulya and Pitrulya Vidur, haven’t we? And Pitamah Bhishm?” “Yes!” Nakul laughs. “I think he would like you, Bhraata Arjun. He wrote letters about you, we talked about that too, didn’t we? Besides, everyone likes you.” Before Arjun can reply, Mata Kunti calls him.

He runs to her. “Ask the children to be ready to leave, Arjun, we should start our journey.” Arjun nods. “Mata.” He looks straight at her. “Please do not lead the procession, mata. Some things…are best left unseen. The antyesti is the eldest son’s duty, and in these circumstances, it is best if I do it alone.” She smiles sadly at him. “It will be as you wish, Arjun. I see my little hurricane is truly becoming a man.” _A man is who you need, mata, for all that I want to be a child clasping the threads of your uttariya._

He smiles back.

The walk to Hastina is long. Wherever they go, there is hushed silence, people making way for them. Arjun notices their stares and tries to ignore them, marching on.

In the nights, Arjun sleeps fitfully. Some sense of alertness stays even when his eyes are closed. One such night, he catches Yudhisthir, who had almost tripped over Arjun. “Whoa, there, Yudhisthir. What are you doing awake this late at night?” His brother has tears in his eyes, he is crying. “I am sorry, Bhraata Arjun. I wish Pitashree had been happy with me.” “He was, Yudhisthir.” “He liked you better. Everyone likes you better. That’s not fair!” He is crying in earnest now, leaving Arjun confused. “Pitashree loved you, Yudhisthir. He loved all of us.” “He loved you best! He said that I am not you, and that’s where I lack.” “Pitashree only ever taught me Dharmashastra before he taught you, Yudhisthir, that is why he said what he did. It was not intended to hurt you. He only meant that you should learn things. He did say that you understood written law well, did he not?” Yudhishthir nods. “See? He was pleased, Yudhisthir. Don’t worry. He loved all of us. Like I love all of you. Okay? Come here.” He hugs Yudhisthir. “There. Do you feel better?” Yudhisthir nods against Arjun’s chest. “Go to sleep, little brother.”

When they reach Hastina, it is Pitamah Bhishm and Pitrulya Vidur who wait at the gates, swarmed by curious glances of people. Arjun fights the instinct to shy away, instead stepping forward.

“Pranaam, Pitamah, Pitrulya,” Arjun keeps his hands joined, his eyes sharp. _What kind of men are they?_

Pitrulya meets Mata, speaking genuine words of commiseration. His words do not have the tone of empty falsehood Arjun has learned to identify. Arjun thinks he shall like him.

However, before entering Hastina proper, there is one last thing to do, to bid goodbye to the child he had been. The one thing that has been in Arjun’s mind all this time, that he has been dreading.

Pitashree’s antyesti.

Arjun observes the rites himself. _What is an elder brother for if not to protect his younger brothers?_

In a way, it solidifies a lot of things, some concrete, some not. The rhythm of the water, the repeated motions of the rituals. Arjun carries the pot of water, breaks it. As the pot shatters, as he lights the fire with his own hands, there is a sense of finality. _I cannot go back from this._

With the fire that burns his father’s body to askes and carries him to moksh, to mukti, Arjun is reborn. Forged in fire, a child no more.

**Author's Note:**

> Thoughts? Comments?


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